The Legate
by TheLegate6
Summary: A young bastard (Sam Clemens) must rise up to defend his land from a series of increasingly dangerous threats.
1. Prologue

(This is not only my first time writing a fanfiction, but also my first time using this platform. I would appreciate criticism on every level, so that I may improve my writing skills. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!)

In the land of Tamriel, there exists a particular province known as "Cyrodiil". In Cyrodiil, there lives a 22 year old Breton (a race with ancestry of mixed man and mer) named Sam Clemens. Sam Clemens isn't necessarily particularly special in any way...he doesn't have any real reputation. He has no family; his mother abandoned him shortly after birth, and his father's whereabouts and identity are entirely unknown to him. Sam's only reputation is that he's a heavy drinker, and this often caused him to have run-ins with the law enforcement of Bruma (a city in the far north of Cyrodiil).

As a citizen of Bruma, The Legate would often venture up to the border between Cyrodiil and another province called "Skyrim", which was just north of Cyrodiil. Once he had reached the border, he would venture over it and head up to the city of Helgen. Here in Helgen, he usually bought a lot of a special type of Mead with Juniper Berries mixed in with the money he had stolen from unwary passerby.

However, on one particular venture to the Cyrodiil-Skyrim border, Sam found that he was in for a rather unpleasant surprise, when he was apprehended by Legion patrols in the area. The Imperial Legion had been increasing patrols along the border around that time due to the Stormcloak Rebellion, an uprising of Skyrim's natives (Nords) against Empire and the Thalmor.

The Thalmor had largely helped to cause the war by banning the worship of Talos, who the Nords claimed had obtained Godhood. The Thalmor of the Summerset Isles, however, determined that such worship of a man was heresy, and banned it. Afterwards, a man named Ulfiric Stormcloak approached the High King of Skyrim, King Torygg, and challenged him to a duel. Ulfiric won this duel swiftly and easily by using a mysterious magical art known as the "Thu'um", or "Shout".

After killing High King Torygg in the duel, Ulfiric declared a rebellion against Imperial occupation in Skyrim, thus starting a civil war within the Empire.

And now, Sam Clemens is in the back of a cart with Ulfiric Stormcloak and a few of his Stormcloak Rebels, all on their way to Helgen to receive their punishment.


	2. Chapter 1: Helgen

(I apologize to however few may actually read this, it took a lot longer to write than it should have, but there's been a lot going on in my personal life recently, so I've been really preoccupied and when I do get a moment to spare, I'm usually not in much of a writing mood. Anyway, I hope this turned out ok, and I will be modifying some canon story events for a few different reasons, but nothing major yet. Enjoy!)

Chapter I: Helgen

I sat in that bloody cart, with this rebel "king" and his cronies. They babbled on and on about their stupid rebellion, but I was far more concerned about our fate; I had just been caught attempting to sneak over the border to Skyrim.

The head of the Imperial forces in Skyrim, General Tullius himself, was with the caravan. What could this possibly mean for me? Was I to receive the same punishment as this Ulfiric man? No...surely the Empire would recognize that one of their own loyal citizens would never rebel against them; I simply wanted a bit of that special Mead.

Soon enough, the caravan rode into the streets of Helgen. It was a relatively warm, humid day. The air was filled with a dense fog. People could be seen here and there in the streets; I heard a man talking to his son.

"Go inside, Timmy", the man said, a tone of worry in his voice.

"But papa, I wanna see the execution!", said the boy, clearly upset by his father's command; but did I hear him correctly? An execution? Surely such a harsh punishment would befit only the most heinous of heretics and traitors, such as Ulfiric Stormcloak and his fellow rebels. As I thought this, another thought entered my mind.

"But what if...what if they believe I am a Stormcloak?"

Surely not, I assured myself. I had been a loyal citizen of the great land of Cyrodiil since birth, after all! They wouldn't execute me...right?

Soon enough, the caravan arrived at the center of a city, next to a large stone block. Standing next to the block was a hooded man with a mighty axe; surely Ulfiric's executor. General Tullius stood proudly behind my cart, waiting for the prisoners it held to be unloaded. Next to him was a woman I had not seen before, wearing Imperial Officer armour.

The other prisoners on the cart began exiting, being ticked off by a man with a clipboard. I quickly followed suit, but when he reached me, he was confused.

"Who are you?", said the man.

"I? I am Sam Clemens, a proud Imperial citizen since birth, and I bel-"

"Yes, yes, whatever, just go stand over by the chopping block so you can be executed", he said, putting away his clipboard and walking away boredly.

After his half-assed performance in handling my case, I felt rage SURGING through my veins.

"If I ever get out of these binds before I die, you're gonna regret it, you sick son of a bitch...", I grumbled to myself, walking over to the chopping block. Around me stood the filthy Stormcloak scum, still committed to their faux god even at death's door.

One of them walked up to the block and was forced to his knees by the Imperial Officer; his head was then lopped off in one quick slice.

"Perhaps one day, in another life, I will use such an axe and behead my enemies with it", I thought to myself.

Shortly after this, another one of the rebels made a short-lived escape attempt; he was sniped by an archer in the nearby Guard Tower. Finally, the Imperial Officer pointed at me, beckoning me forward. Knowing not what else to do, and paying no mind to the words that flowed around me, I walked to the woman. Though once I reached the spot right in front of the chopping block, she forced me to my knees and pressed my face into the chopping block.

"This is it", I thought, "This is all I'll ever accomplish in my life. Become an alcoholic at the age of 14 and then die because of my drinking habits."

Bracing myself for the blade to come down upon my neck, I suddenly noticed that there was something large and black sitting on the guard tower. Something very large, and also very black.

The appearance of said thing reminded me somewhat of paintings I had seen of the battle between Akatosh and Mehrunes Dagon when I was in Cyrodiil, except more...wicked looking, I suppose.

Anyway, that probably should've been the last thing on my mind, as I was in immediate danger of being roasted alive. I stood up from the block, the Imperial officers and soldiers preoccupied with the great beast, and ran off as fast as I could. There was, however, a problem. I could only do so much with my hands bound together as they were.

Valuing my life, I sprinted to a nearby tower seeking shelter. Some soldiers were there; Stormcloaks, if I remember correctly, but I didn't care as much about them with the great beast from before sweeping across the skies, blasting its unholy fire across the city.

I swiftly ran up to the next floor, only for the beast to break the wall open and blast its flames within, roasting another fleeing man ahead of me alive. I wasn't too fazed by the death; I had seen plenty of unfortunate events before, and most of them involved casualties. The beast had caused a section of the ceiling to collapse when it broke the wall, blocking the stairway to go further up the tower. I certainly wasn't going to go back down, so I looked outside the hole the beast had made once it had left.

Not too far away from the hole was the bar that sold the Juniper Berry Mead, but it was in far worse condition than it was just ten minutes before. However, one thing I could use to my advantage was that a large portion of the roof was gone, and that section was close enough to jump to. Under normal circumstances, I would likely never take such a bet as I did with that jump, but under these circumstances I had a far greater chance of dying if I were to stay in that tower.

Mustering up my courage, I leapt out out across the gap, praying to the Eight Divines that I wouldn't impale myself on a sharp piece of broken wood or fall to the ground below. I stuck the landing, quickly getting back to running. I ran across the room I was in, avoiding the falling embers from the burning building around me, and saw a hole in the far wall. I jumped out of it and landed safely on the ground below, seeing several Imperial officers and soldiers attempting to fight back against the beast.

Another thing that I noticed was that in the sky there was a great vortex, with many boulders raining down upon the city. I fled even faster this time, and went into yet another building; except this time, I was going into the world below.


End file.
